


The Photographer

by the_song_you_gave_me



Category: The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Gen, one-shot opener
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 10:46:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6151096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_song_you_gave_me/pseuds/the_song_you_gave_me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four years before war broke out across Hyrule and sent our favorite Hero to the Forest, the Shekkah thrived in the great city of Kakariko. In this piece, a Hylian photographer goes to see Kakariko in all its glory- to try and capture a shot of "the Shekkian essence".</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Photographer

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old piece and race names are definitely spelled wrong. It's from an earlier time though, (I think actually- 7? years ago, wow…) so I didn't have the heart to change them. That said-
> 
> My rendition of Sheik is in this piece too, but she's three years old and completely re-interpreted. Still, I had fun imagining what the Shekkah culture and city would be like if it wasn't just those ten houses under the windmill. Seeing it from the perspective of an outside Hylian gives it a reason for the whole air of newness, and the photographer's detail allows me a great excuse for gawking at little details. 
> 
> It's rough, it's choppy, but this is still one of my favorites and even more appropriate because it's my first; so okay, I'm done. Here's my inaugural post to AO3; I hope you enjoy.

~Four years before the War~

The Hylian entered the city and looked up. The climb up that secluded mountain stairway had been hard on foot. Shame that he couldn't have rented a local horse- raised and trained to bound up that stairwell in three giant leaps. The beast could have carried his gear up, and he wouldn't have wasted all that effort to carry his own heavy equipment.

He opened his eyes and beheld the magnificent villa in front of him. The houses were built on top of each other, layered so that there was a pathway built on the red and blue terracotta roofs of the lower houses. The front of the city opened up in a bowl around a bare park in which he stood. In the center of the open space was an oak sapling with carvings in its thin trunk towards the base where the overgrown grass threatened to hide them. The Hylian dropped his heavy bags and dug through their contents. Finding what he was looking for, the Photographer pulled out his camera and caught the mid-day light at a low angle, showing the watchful villa's intimidating magnificence in his first moment within the Shekkian Empire.

Kakkarriko branched out from there, always with the layered buildings looming down on the ground level pathway. Above, on the second story, the Hylian could see several Shekkah, going about their mid-day business on the upper pathway. Every now and then, a bridge would form over the ground level path and connect the two sides of the upper levels. Everywhere the Hylian looked, he felt watched.

The main path he was on, opened out into a wide clear space. Here, a well stood left of the center area, and a gigantic windmill loomed in front of him over the town square. To his far right there was a home raised on a rocky barrier separated from the main conglomeration of buildings by a narrow alleyway. The upper path leading to the second story door kept the house from being secluded. There was a private cuckoo pen below the high entrance in which the birds were clucking sedately. This had to be the house of the Shekkian leader, the Ka-Do-Me. Opposite the cuckoo pen, a broad path opened under a stone archway. A sign next to the arch stated in multiple languages: Graveyard. This Way.

"Oi! Hylian!"

The Hylian turned around and looked toward the well from where he heard the voice. On the upper paths, a man was waving his arms. He vaulted over the pathway's guardrails and landed at a crouch beside the well. He was dressed in the Shekkian Warrior uniform of tight dark royal blue leggings and shirt with the symbol of his people displayed proudly on the beige cloth hanging from his chest and around his neck. His head was uncovered and as the man approached, smiling, the Hylian was caught in fear from the blood red color of the man's eyes.

"You here for the festivities?" He asked kindly in the Hylian language. His accent was noticeable, but he spoke with the ease of knowing a language for years. 

"Um, yes," the Photographer stuttered, "I'm--"  
"It doesn't matter who you are, but either way I bet you're lost. Come, I'll take you to the inn."

The Hylian had no choice but to follow his friendly guide. He was led through the many streets, carrying his own heavy bags and led even further uphill in the mountain-secluded city. The Shekkah ahead of him chatted non-stop explaining the layout of the city and discussing the Harvest festival that would take place this night. He led him to an inn at the top of a foothill, right at the base of Death Mountain. Here the Photographer finally got a chance to look around, and the view was worth his morning of traveling and climbing.

The city of Kakkarriko lay sprawled out beneath him. The inn was in the northwest corner of the city, and from this height, he could finally see how it was oriented. The sleepy city of Kakkarriko filled the girth of the valley, stretching from the base of the foothills to the cliffs that fell down towards Zora River. Crops were grown on the hills surrounding the city wherever there wasn't a small patch of woodland. A wide stream marked the far edge of the city and beyond that lay the unexplored hills of Eastern Hyrule. The Photographer laid his bags on the ground again, took up his camera and snapped a wide-angle view of the sun spilling down into the Shekkian valley. He then picked up his bags and walked into the inn to find a long awaited lunch.

After renting a room for the night and dropping his professional photography gear on his bed, the photographer carried his favorite camera down to the common room to find a seat. There he spent the hottest hours of the day, hidden from the sun and enjoying the conversation circling the room. He was able to enjoy a bowl of soup served by the inn keeper's lovely wife, and ate slowly, observing his fellow inn-mates. There was a decent-sized band of female Gerudo thieves, laughing and chatting in their own language, and flinging their hair about. Several Shekkah spending lunch at the inn were laughing along with them, and joining in on their fun. The Photographer realized that most of those Shekkah were men. There was also a group of what seemed to be sailors and their girls, leaning over the backs of the booths and flirting with anyone young and pretty. In one corner towards the front desk and combined restaurant counter, there was even a trio of Zora- the aquatic fish-like people. All around there were also many other Hylians, who had traveled here, like himself, to see the Shekkian Harvest festival, all talking and filling the inn with a dull roar, but what the Photographer enjoyed the most was watching the children.

There were two little girls dressed in loose summer shirts and full, wide, beige skirts over what seemed to be child-sized versions of Shekkian Warrior uniforms. The had wide scarves that tied back their short hair to keep it out of their faces, and they would run around, play-fighting swords with two sticks, and sending their skirts spinning every time they turned. They had to be the innkeepers' daughters, for every Shekkah seemed to know them, and only children in their own home would be allowed to continue fighting indoors like that. The Photographer was entranced, and he would love to catch these two girls in a picture, fighting, sparring, and playing to all of their innocent hearts' content.

The hours passed on. At one point, a little blond boy ran into the inn and up to the elder of the two girls, he talked fast, and excitedly, and what he said interested all of the Shekkah in the restaurant. The three children all ran out together then, with the innkeeper's wife calling out some command to her daughters. The Hylian hadn't understood a word said during this entire show, and still he felt just as excited as the little boy who had run in. The Hylian sat at his table for a while longer, and then rose to retreat to his room for a nap before the night's festivities would begin.

***

He awoke to the sound of music. Outside of his window, the sky was beginning to darken. The photographer leaped out of bed and went to his gear to search for his tripod, his low-light lens, his zoom, and anything else that might help him capture a shot of the Shekkian essence. He stowed his chosen items in a rucksack, hung his camera from his neck, and carried his tripod out of the inn. 

The sleepy city of Kakkarriko had awoken. The Photographer heard trills coming from flutes and pipes, strumming of guitars and lyres, and the low hum of something else vibrating through the air. They always said that the Shekkah were a music-based people. He tramped down the side of the foothill and skirted the city's edge, following the trickle of people leading towards the center of the valley. As he came closer, the photographer caught his first glimpse of the bonfire. It was so bright and huge, even from where he stood, high on the foothills. The Photographer pulled out his zoom for a quick nighttime view of the city, and then carefully trekked his way down the steep slope towards the ring of people circling the fire.

The Hylian now knew why the Shekkah were referred to as "the shadow people" He was surrounded by figures dancing in the dusk and he couldn't see any one of them. There was a song twisting through the air that only he seemed not to know the moves to. Every now and then, he could distinguish a group of Gerudo learning the moves from their Shekkah friends, or a cluster of Hylian tourists looking as lost and confused as he was. The area around the fire was casting strange shadows into the night, and even if the Photographer could find a decent subject for a picture, the light was too poor and the people moved too fast for him to capture an action shot, and he refused to take a posed picture.

The Hylian's head was spinning, so he decided to leave the throng of people close to the fire and headed back towards the foothills where the night's cool breeze could reach his lungs. His eyes slowly adjusted to the even light as he tried to forget the pulsing beat and shadows that he had just pushed his way through. Someone handed him water to drink, and smiling led him over to a family's picnic blanket on the side of a hill. He gave them a word of thanks and looked around. This area of the festival was more open, and many families had gathered around on blankets and were eating and sharing conversations with their neighbors. Children ran around, teens were practicing their sword skills in the grass far away, and elders of the city were gazing towards the bonfire remembering the days when they had been part of that dance. "It's madness down there." The woman next to him said in Hylian.

"No kidding," the Photographer replied. The woman was leaning back; she looked old yet active, with a stern face and sterner gaze that would make anyone pay attention. Her words left a trace of a smile on her lips, and her old yellow eyes were watching both the throng of people around the fire and a gaggle of kids on her left. The Photographer turned his head towards the kids, "Are they-?" he glanced at the woman again.

"My youngest and her friends." The woman replied, "They're the biggest trouble-makers you'll ever meet." He laughed and looked towards the kids again. The Photographer had found a place he could work.

He set up his tripod close to the ground. The old woman looked at him for a moment, smirked, and then turned back toward the bonfire. The Photographer set his camera on the tripod and then watched his chosen muse through the viewfinder.

There were six of them, no older than five years old, three boys, and three girls. The two older boys were rolling around and wrestling, while the youngest of the six, a girl, stood trembling. The youngest boy stood behind her, looking towards the duo as through waiting for one of them to get hurt. A girl with brown ringlets was in the middle of the viewfinder, cheering on the eldest boy while the eldest girl shouted out helps to the losing wrestler. Click! 

The middle boy was now on top of the other, his blond hair showing in the firelight. The eldest girl's eyes sparkled with glee as ringlets' eyes opened wide in shock. The youngest covered her face in her hands, and the boy behind her got ready to join the fray. Click! 

The youngest boy now hugged the little girl tight and quick just as the eldest boy got an advantage over his opponent and pinned the struggling, grinning, blond to the ground. Click!

The youngest boy, now standing between the two wrestlers, faced a playful blond advancing on someone he could actually beat. The little girl now had her eyes open and smiling, able to watch. The eldest boy had backed up a bit, picking up a fallen wide-brim hat. Ringlets was advancing towards her hero as the eldest girl now stood behind the little one, watching their contestants fight. Click! 

Ringlets had reached her hero who now had his hat on, and gave him a childish kiss on the cheek. The hat-wearing hero was giving a classic little-boy response to this, complete with a cringe and a stuck-out tongue. Blondie was on his back, laughing at his embarrassed defeater, while the youngest boy was just turning around to see what had happened; the other two girls were giggling. Click! 

The eldest girl was now laughing into the shoulder of the blond sitting upright. Ringlets was kneeling on the ground, smirking and proud of herself, with her hero looking utterly defeated, facedown in the grass. The youngest boy was now laughing a wide-smiled laugh, leaning back as he sat in the grass with a smiling, little girl behind him, resting her chin on his shoulder. Click! 

By now, his subjects had noticed they were being watched, and the Photographer went ahead and took one last picture where all of them were looking a the camera; he made sure that the picture was taken before the kids got a chance to pose. Click!

The Hylian looked the kids in the eye, and then looked down at the grass. He took down his tripod and camera, smiled at the old woman and headed back for the inn. He would make sure that she got a copy of these pictures. As he set up his traveling dark room in the inn, he went through the invigorating process of watching his pictures develop before his very eyes. Slowly the details formed everything from the folds in the wrestling boys' loose clothing to the look of each child's eye in the last picture. From what he saw, this series of seven pictures had truly captured the essence of Shekkian Childhood.


End file.
